


Fuseki

by enblackink



Series: Rules of the Game [1]
Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-01
Updated: 2012-04-12
Packaged: 2017-11-02 21:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enblackink/pseuds/enblackink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after fading away Sai is ejected from heaven and sent back to earth . . . alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Longing

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Hikaru no Go is a product of Hotta and Obata.  
> Warnings: Divine Intervention
> 
> Began: 08.2003  
> Ended: 06.2004

Sai’s light eyes lifted from his feet to meet the back of the head of the person before him and sighed. At least the gates to Heaven were now visible, if still far away. He wondered why no one had seen fit to tell him that there was a line to get into Heaven, meet with God and decide whether you were fit to stay or not, etcetera. It didn’t even feel like he’d been in line for such a long time physically, but mentally — in the real world — Sai knew it had been a long while. However, there was no way to measure time passage when in line to see God. Everything looked the same. 

The outskirts of the gates to Heaven were beautiful and gleamed with inner light. The road was paved with gold. Quite a few souls had bent their heads to study the street and figure out a way to get it up. They looked like the TV evangelists Sai had once seen when Hikaru had been flipping through the channels. The atmosphere was both tense and peaceful. Some souls cried, whether they were happy tears or tears of regret, Sai did not know and did not ask. They all had to answer to God for themselves. Talking about it now was too late even though the line was long. 

Hikaru must have been worried when he’d just disappeared. Sai knew that Hikaru had been tired, and cranky, and disoriented after so many days of staying up late and working at the seminars. Hikaru probably hadn’t realized that Sai was gone right away. Since his disappearance Sai had only seen Hikaru once and then it had been to pass on his fan. Hikaru had been saying something about going up against Touya Akira and losing, but to have gotten a match against Touya after being a year behind would have taken months. 

_Months . . ._

The soul chewed his lip, looked back down at his shoes. It had been a long while . . . Sai frowned as he realized that he’d thought that before. As a matter of fact, he’d thought that same sentence many times before because it had been such a long time. 

_A long time in line_. 

The Pearly Gates were visible now at least. 

Sai’s frown deepened. 

Death was a little redundant. 

Thoughts of Hikaru helped though. The long line between Sai and God had put his thoughts and priorities into bright blinding clarity when they weren’t looping around themselves. He’d led an extremely selfish life in a way. He’d lived for the game, Go, and he had died for it also. In one thousand years God had only sent him two people and one (though Sai had loved him dearly) had been more a puppet than a friend. And Hikaru had been everything Sai hadn’t had when he was alive. When he was alive he’d been too self absorbed, Sai conceded. 

He . . . 

He’d quit. 

Sai had quit his life and he’d been so jealous of Hikaru because he had chosen to live instead of quietly handing over his life to a dead man as Torajirou had done. Hikaru hadn't just breathed. He hadn't just had flesh. He hadn’t just had time. Shindou Hikaru had _lived_. He was more than just Go, he was video games and friendships and fun. At times Sai had considered him the selfish one; but now after having time to think about it . . . Rather, after officially being dead and not having anything else to think about, Sai had come to the conclusion that Hikaru hadn’t been selfish. Hikaru had wanted to live his life to the best of his ability using his own strength. He had wanted to do the things that Sai had given up the right to do. 

Hikaru had been his only true friend in his long, long existence. Sai hadn’t wanted to leave. Hikaru must have been so worried. 

His shoes were very comfortable. The person in line ahead of him had an extremely large cranium. The TV evangelists were clawing at the golden road. The Pearly Gates were suddenly close and shining on him with a soft pure light. Sai didn’t remember moving. He could only return to looking down at his feet, but instead of shoes Hikaru’s gray-green eyes looked up at him full of hope and life. 

Sai had been in line for a long time. 

* * *

Shindou Hikaru’s guts churned as he sat in a chair across from Waya and Isumi. A bowl of ramen rested untouched before him, its heat steadily leaking away into the air. Hikaru could relate to that bowl of ramen well. He felt leeched. He felt as though each breath he released expelled a little bit of his soul away to be lost forevermore wandering the atmosphere. 

He’d lost to Ko Yeong-Ha. He’d been unable to defend Sai’s honor. It ate at him. It mangled his craw. It was a virus in his system that white blood cells couldn’t fend off. It was anger. It was disappointment that after all this time, after all the preparation with Touya and Yashiro, he still wasn’t good enough. If Sai was in his Go, if he played in remembrance of Sai, then Hikaru was afraid that he had forgotten a little bit of Sai in losing that game. A week ago — the day of the Hokuto Cup tournament — had been the anniversary of the day Sai had disappeared. So when Hikaru had lost that match it had been as though Sai had vanished all over again. And that was unacceptable. 

Sai had been his best friend. The ghost had known everything there was to know about him and had still liked him just the same. That was what made Sai special; he didn’t claim so lightly. Hikaru didn’t want to forget Sai. He didn’t want to remember how right when everything was falling into place and Sai would be able to play more games with higher skilled people like Touya Kouyo and Ogata, and he was an aspiring beginner dan that would be Touya Akira’s rival, that God had put Sai on recall. Hikaru wanted to keep what he could of Sai. He wanted Sai back most of all. 

A foot nudged his under the table and Hikaru looked up to meet Waya’s worried green eyes studying him. “You’re brooding again,” the auburn-haired boy stated. Waya had been studying Hikaru the entire day and had long since realized that something was off. At this moment they should have been picking on Isumi and swapping exaggerated stories, Go related or otherwise. Instead they sat in tense silence, he and Isumi wanting to just ask Hikaru what his malfunction was but afraid that they might offend him. 

Hikaru shrugged, picked up his chopsticks and poked at his ramen. After a debate between his head and stomach, in which the head knew that he should eat and the stomach’s squeamishness became more pronounced with every mental nudge, Hikaru dropped the sticks. He looked up to see Isumi’s concerned gaze and didn’t know whether to be annoyed or thankful that he had such caring friends. 

“Still thinking about that game?” Isumi questioned softly and Hikaru nodded. Somehow Isumi always knew what to say to Shindou to get him to open up. It had been a week since the Hokuto Cup Tournament. Hikaru hadn’t been the same since. He often looked forlorn and confused; as though he had lost something vital and couldn’t find it. Isumi had only seen Hikaru this way once before, and he didn’t like it. 

“You aren’t going to start skipping matches again are you?” Waya wondered and then took a long drag from his soda can. 

“No,” Hikaru answered. With the way he’d played against Ko Yeong-Ha on his record he couldn’t afford to miss games again. He had to be better for next year. He wasn’t Sai but he didn’t want to think of himself as such a poor substitute that he couldn’t defend him. He’d only lost by half a moku but a loss was still a loss. 

The day after the tournament Hikaru had gone to Su-Yeong’s uncle’s Go salon and played the promised game against him. Once again Hikaru had won after a complicated battle. Ko Yeong-Ha had been present though, having delayed his return to Korea as well. Shindou had been mildly annoyed, first by his presence and secondly because he had won against Su-Yeong. It was a belated win. A slap in the face almost because he hadn’t won when he’d needed to. Yeong-Ha had even smirked and said something Su-Yeong refused to translate. His craw was in really bad shape due to that guy; Hikaru had been swallowing a lot of the blistering words he wanted to say to Ko. Perhaps he should learn to speak Korean before the next tournament since that arrogant bastard probably wouldn’t deign to learn Japanese. That way he could translate for himself anything Ko said about Shuusaku . . . Rather, anything he said about Sai. 

Hikaru blinked. Had he failed Sai in that way too; relying on other people to be his ears and mouth piece? Shindou looked down upon his now tepid ramen and closed his eyes. 

_Can you hear?_

Hikaru’s eyes shot open and his head whipped around to scan as much of the ramen shop as possible. Had he just heard what he thought? _Sai’s voice?_

_Can you hear . . ?_

“Shindou?” Waya and Isumi questioned at once. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Hikaru shook his head vehemently. He hadn’t seen a ghost but he had heard one. Sai . . . 

_Can you hear my voice?_

“I have to go,” Hikaru stated succinctly as he stood and pulled money from his pocket to cover the bill. He tossed it to Isumi. “Pay for that please. I have to go now.” 

“Shindou!” Waya stood and yelled after Hikaru’s retreating form, but he didn’t look back. The door swished closed after him. Waya looked down at the still seated Isumi and shrugged. “What was that about?” 

“I don’t know,” Isumi answered. “We’ll stop by his house later to see if he’s alright.” 

“Okay,” Waya agreed. His eyes were still on the door. Hikaru was behaving oddly again and he was concerned. 

* * *

Hikaru dashed to the subway as fast as his legs could carry him dishing out apologies left and right to the many people he bumped into. Inside the train car he jogged in place impatiently and then rushed out as soon as the doors opened. He’d developed a cramp in his side a little ways from his house which slowed his all-out sprint to a defeated jog. His breath came out harshly and he felt dizzy and lightheaded. But he didn’t want to stop. His house was in view. Hikaru swallowed, his mouth was suddenly dry. He put the stitch in his side to the back of his mind and picked up his pace. 

The door was unlocked and Hikaru flew threw it calling out, “Sai!” 

He stood in the house foyer, looked around. The only other shoes present were his mother’s. The foyer was empty. Hikaru could vaguely hear his mother’s voice asking him if he were alright. The room was suddenly dull and leeched of color. Sounds faded to the back of his mind; there was a loud ringing in his ears. The cramp in his side throbbed with his heartbeat, his legs crumpled under the weight of his body and exhaustion. He could feel it again, that horrible pain in his chest that came when he acknowledged it. 

Sai was not here. 

Sai was not anywhere. 

Sai was gone. 

Hikaru wept. 


	2. The Fact of the Matter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Hikaru no Go is a product of Hotta and Obata.  
> Warnings: Divine Intervention

Sai was stopped just outside the gates of Heaven by a man with an afro and diamond studded earrings in both ears. There was a thick gold chain around his neck decorated with seven golden keys. He wore a white suit with a flimsy piece of purple cloth tied around his neck. His pants flared at the bottom and shiny black platforms winked at Sai from their place on the glowing road. 

“Fujiwara no Sai, right?” the man questioned. 

Sai nodded. 

“Sorry, cat, ‘fraid I can’t let you pass just yet.” 

Sai blinked. “But . . .” he began, however the guard cut him off. 

“Just chill, Sai. Archangel Gabriel will be here in minute to explain everything. For the time being just step over here with me, you’re blocking the line.” 

Sai obediently moved to stand beside the guard, not wanting it to ever be said that he had contributed to lengthening the already overextended wait. He sighed gustily as he thought, _What did I do wrong_? He was tempted to ask the sentry but the guy seemed intent on his job; making sure names matched faces. The keys around his neck jingled pleasantly with each of his movements. 

A few minutes passed and another man, this one with blond hair though he was dressed in the full battle regalia of samurai seemed to pop into existence beside Sai. He smiled reassuringly at the ghost before scowling at the guard. “Peter, when are you going to let that era go?” 

“It’s coming back, man!” Peter vehemently stated. 

“No its not,” Gabriel gently assured in return. 

Peter glowered at the archangel. “Handle your business and leave me alone.” 

Gabriel laughed and Sai was horribly confused. The archangel turned back to Sai and gifted him with a huge hug. “Welcome to Heaven,” he said. “Sorry you can’t stay.” 

The soul blinked. “W-What? Why?” 

“Because you still have unfinished business even after all this time. God thinks you’d be better off returning to earth; returning to Hikaru.” 

Sai’s light colored eyes lit up. “Really?” 

“Yes.” Gabriel smiled. “You do rate heaven, you know. In your life you were a little selfish, true, but you’ve acknowledged this. You were also cheated out of living the first time and that’s partially why God allowed you those thousand years. And yes the other reason was indeed for you to show Hikaru that match between you and Touya Kouyo, however, by then you’d worked through your selfishness but not your ambition.” 

“What does my ambition have to do with anything?” Sai questioned. 

“Plenty. You wanted to achieve the Hand of God in your lifetime and you didn’t get to do it, you barely got to try and that eats at you still. Heaven is a place of peace and rejoicing. You wouldn’t be able to do that.” 

“Oh,” Sai breathed out. 

“There’s more,” Gabriel continued. “Shindou Hikaru. At some point you gave up your selfishness for him. You made up your mind to stay with him and it wasn’t because he let you play Go. And it’s mostly because of that commitment that God is going to give you a life. Of course only you and Hikaru will ever know the real truth about how you got it.” 

“You’re sending me back . . . with a body?” Sai queried incredulously. 

Gabriel nodded. “Yes. Hikaru needs you as much as you need him. God wants you to grow old together. God wants you play thousands of games of Go. God wants you be successful. Most of all God wants you to be happy and that’s something you weren’t until you were sent to Hikaru.” The archangel smiled again. “I’ll see you again when the time comes. Until then . . .” Gabriel snapped his fingers. 

In a flash Sai found himself on a familiar sidewalk in a pair of baggy jeans and a large shirt imprinted with five fives. His mind felt as though it had been crammed with information that he knew hadn’t happened but was definitely true because God had put it into his memory. His body felt weak and unused. He felt drained and tired but also, for the first time in a thousand years, he felt the sun warm on his face. 

Sai smiled. 

* * *

“Shindou is spazzing out again,” Waya remarked to Isumi as they walked side by side on the way to Hikaru’s house. The sun was on its downward journey. The birds were finding homes for the night. The traffic through that part of town was little to none. Most people would be home by now eating dinner. Waya envied those people. He was hungry and there was no guarantee that Mrs. Shindou would feed them. His complaining stomach combined with his worry for Hikaru was not a good combination. 

Isumi agreed with Waya’s diagnosis. “I know.” 

“Remember last year about this time when he went on that skip matches rerun?” Waya asked. He looked up into the colorful sky and frowned when he noted the lack of clouds. He had wanted to imagine what foods they could look like. 

“He was going through something and was extremely conflicted,” Isumi answered. 

Waya’s eyes slid from the sky to Isumi. He stopped walking and grabbed Isumi’s arm. “He told you what was wrong?” the redhead demanded. 

“No,” Isumi replied. “But I could tell. His Go board hadn’t been touched in months, it was covered in dust. I had to beg him for a game.” 

Waya scowled. That was still more than he’d gotten out of Shindou and they were closer friends. The guy had run every time they’d seen each other. “Was it about me?” 

“What?” 

“Was it about me?” Waya repeated. 

Isumi shrugged off Waya’s hand. “I don’t know. I just said that he didn’t tell me.” 

“But you could be lying because it was about me,” Waya argued. 

“It had nothing to do with you,” Isumi stated. 

“But you just said that you didn’t know.” 

“I _don’t_.” Isumi stressed. “But you keep hounding me and I’m trying to make you feel better.” Isumi sighed and raked his dark hair with a hand. “Look, the impression I got wasn’t that it had anything to do with you. Alright?” 

“Why couldn’t you have just said it that way the first time?” Waya questioned. 

“I didn’t expect you to blow it all out of proportion.” 

“I wasn’t blowing . . . hey. Does that girl seem like she’s having trouble to you?” Waya pointed to a splotch of red and blue not too far down the sidewalk. The person was leaning heavily on the privacy wall while slowly dragging their self forward. Isumi watched the figure struggle through a few more steps and then weakly slide down the wall to rest in a defeated puddle. Together he and Waya raced up the sidewalk and came to kneel beside her. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Waya asked. Isumi extended his hand to help her stand up. Their eyes met and Isumi was treated to a grateful smile. 

“W-Wow,” Isumi mouthed. After allowing himself a once over, even a twice over to be sure he had seen correctly, Isumi had to conclude that this person was without a doubt the prettiest _man_ he’d ever seen in his life — even with his overly pale skin, as though he’d never gone outside, and his chapped lips and old lavender hued eyes set in his young face. “Y-You don’t look so well,” he pointed out. 

“I know,” the boy acknowledged. “Thank you for stopping.” 

“No problem,” Waya insisted and gently pulled the boy out of Isumi’s arms, hoping he wouldn't be considered rude. Isumi didn’t stutter when he looked at Waya, he was not allowed to start when looking at someone else. Even so, Waya couldn’t just leave the guy there as his threatened sensibilities were demanding he do before Isumi became even more enthralled. “Can we help get you to where you’re going?” he offered. 

“Yes please. I’m headed to Shindou Hikaru’s house . . .” 

“That’s where we’re headed. Some coincidence, huh?” Isumi interrupted and quickly took up residence on one side of the guy while Waya scowled and took the other side. With their hands holding the boy at the elbows to steady him, slowly they began to inch up the sidewalk to their destination. “I’m Isumi by the way.” 

“And I’m Waya,” Yoshitaka added when it became apparent that Isumi had forgotten him. 

“Fujiwara,” the boy replied and then smiled as though he knew something they didn’t. 

* * *

Shindou Mitsuko paused before knocking on her son’s door. She was balancing a tray of food on one hand as she listened to the rhythmic placement of Go stones on the board. She doubted if he would eat tonight. After finding him crying in a heap in the foyer she had helped him up to his room. He hadn’t wanted to talk about it and she did not want to force him. She’d left and he hadn’t come down since. 

Mitsuko was distracted from her thoughts by the doorbell ringing. She carried the tray back downstairs and set it out of the way so she could open the door empty handed. It was Hikaru’s friends Waya and Isumi and one other that she didn’t know but she did instantly envy his hair. “Hello boys, Hikaru isn’t feeling very well,” she informed them. 

“We know, Mrs. Shindou. That’s why we stopped by,” the one called Waya replied. “Can you tell him we’re here anyway, please?” His youthful face looked eager and innocent. 

Hikaru’s mother mentally sighed. Waya Yoshitaka was a terror when around her son. If anyone could cheer him up surely it would be him. Seeing no harm in at least relaying the message Mitsuko invited the boys in and called up to Hikaru from the foot of the stairs. “Hikaru, your friends are here!” 

The click of stones didn’t stop. “I don’t want to see them right now,” Hikaru yelled back down. He placed another stone as another tear fell. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this. He just wanted to remember Sai. The stones he placed were in the shape of the game with Ko Yeong-ha. He would beat him if it was the last thing he did. 

Her hopes dashed, Mitsuko offered an apologetic smile to the three. “I’m sorry . . .” she began but the boy that she didn’t know interrupted. 

“Please, could you tell him Sai’s here?” 

The lady of the house ignored the twin gasps and incredulous looks from Isumi and Waya as she processed the name. It was the one Hikaru had called out when he’d returned home. It was the name he had cried over. She turned her head to look up the stairwell as she bit her bottom lip. She didn’t know the significance of the name to Hikaru but she was curious to see what would happen. “Hikaru, Sai’s here!” 

In his room Hikaru’s hand was frozen over the goban. The white stone within his fingertips fell and ruined the shape below. His heart skipped a beat. There was tingling in his mind as though that spot Sai had occupied had been reawakened. That was impossible though. It was wistful thinking on his part because he wanted it to be so. His mother was none the wiser but she had been unforgivably cruel in saying that name. 

Not a second later the door to Hikaru’s room opened and he stood atop the stair well with his gray-green eyes blazing and tears dripping down his face in twin rivulets. He uttered a vicious, “ _No he’s not!_ ” the words seemed torn from his throat. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, he sniffled. 

“Yes I am!” the boy, Sai, quickly countered. He politely removed his shoes and inched over to the foot of the stairs using the wall for support. “Hikaru . . . ” he said softly and extended the arm that wasn’t touching the wall to Hikaru. “I’m right here.” 

“Sai?” Hikaru questioned with complete wonder in his voice. And when the other boy merely nodded Hikaru didn’t wait for further confirmation. Mitsuko saw him run down maybe half of the stairs before he launched himself into Sai’s awaiting arms. The momentum combined with Sai’s pathetic stature caused both boys to end up flat on the floor. When they’d sat up and met each other’s eyes Sai smiled with his own tears glistening in his light eyes and Hikaru was instantly hugging him and blubbering on his shoulder. Sai patted Hikaru’s back. 

“H-How?” Hikaru sobbed. 

“I was released today,” Sai answered. 

Mitsuko was dying to know exactly what he'd been released from. The boy looked as pale as a ghost. Surely his mother took better care of him than that? She watched her son ease out of the tight embrace in which they had cocooned themselves. Then using the tips of his fingers he parted Sai’s extremely long hair which was obstructing his view, and guided it back behind Sai’s ears. 

Shindou Mitsuko blinked. 

That was not a gesture Hikaru should have used on this particular friend no matter how special. She’d been hoping for a long while that he would do something of the romantic sort with Akari, but he seemed hell bent on being the best at Go. Or perhaps he and Sai . . ? No. She wouldn’t think about it, she wouldn’t make assumptions even if Sai’s appearance _had_ triggered the happiest moment that she had ever seen her son in. 

Almost absently she heard Waya say to Isumi, “So that’s Sai,” once he had regained the ability to speak. Mitsuko hadn’t known Waya could be shocked into silence. She turned her attention their way immediately. 

“Do you know him?” she asked. Her eyes gleamed. She wouldn’t speculate but she would ask and then deal with the facts as they came to her. 

“Not really,” Waya hedged, a bit taken aback by the sudden determined look within Mrs. Shindou’s eyes. “I’ve seen his games though.” He was more than a little irritated though. All this time Shindou had known who Sai was and even where to find him, yet hadn’t said anything to Waya about it. 

_Games?_ “Go?” Mitsuko guessed, not overly surprised. It did make sense because Hikaru wouldn’t be interested in the guy if he wasn’t Go oriented and stronger than him at it. She could deduce this easily because of his excitement in having a game against that Touya Akira boy. That was a fact. 

Isumi nodded and added to confirm her suspicions, “Word has it that he’s the best in our business.” Isumi hadn’t been in on the whole ‘Who is Sai?’ deal as much as Waya had because he’d been struggling with his own inner demons at the time, but Waya had filled him in. 

_Go_ , Mitsuko thought. _Of course_. 

“Mom?” 

She turned back to Hikaru to see him helping Sai stand and then steadying him. What was wrong with the kid? 

“Yes, Sweetie?” 

“Food smells great. Can the guys stay for dinner?” His eyes were red from crying for so long but they shined with immense pleasure as they looked at his mother. 

Shindou Mitsuko couldn’t find her voice. She merely nodded and led the boys back into the kitchen to eat and hopefully explain what was going on . . . with facts.


	3. The Way, the Truth, and the Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Hikaru no Go is a product of Hotta and Obata  
> Warnings: Divine intervention

As they sat around the dinner table eating fried noodles and steamed vegetables Waya Yoshitaka unabashedly studied Fujiwara Sai. Yes, the guy was pretty. Yes, he could see where Isumi would begin acting as stupid as the insipid, simpering females that flocked around him for lessons. No, he didn’t like it. Yes, he could quite easily get over it. This was the guy who had put Touya Akira in his place. Never mind that he was also the guy Touya had disregarded Waya to play instead; Sai had won. He had put a hurting on Touya’s pride the same way Touya had unwittingly hurt him. Sai had elevated from potential man-thief to . . . well . . . potential man-thief that would instantly be forgiven of all transgressions. But there was one thing Waya had to know. One thing that he was certain Isumi wanted to ask also but was too polite. 

_Good thing I’m here_. 

“So, Fujiwara,” Waya began almost innocently. “Where have you been all this time? There are people on at least three continents looking for you.” 

Sai lifted his gaze from his plate to Waya. A string of noodle and sauce hung from his lips. He shook his head and slurped up the noodle, his eyes fell back to his plate. It had been a long time since he had been able to eat and this was everything he’d imagined food to be. He didn’t want to spoil it by shifting through the memories that had been imbedded in his head by God. But it was rude not to give an answer. “I’ve been here,” he murmured, failing to specify where exactly ‘here’ was. 

Waya’s eyes narrowed at him as he considered Sai. He had not spent the last couple of years speculating about this guy to not receive any answers now that he could. He opened his mouth to continue but Hikaru cut him off with a quick, “Leave him alone.” 

Isumi’s eyebrows shot upward and Mrs. Shindou squirmed as she sat. Hikaru was _never_ short with Waya, this was a first. 

Hikaru ignored the shocked expression on Waya’s face to regard Sai. He looked so young with his hair down and free. He wore absolutely no make-up. Hikaru had pegged Sai as older when they’d first met, but actually giving him a full assessment now he could quite easily see where that mistake could be made; Sai was tall for his years. His mind was telling him that they were the same age, but somehow Hikaru couldn’t trust it. His head had been teaming with activity since his mother had announced Sai’s presence. Dual memories laced through his head. One side said that he’d met Sai when they were three years old but the truth as he knew it was that they had met nine years after that. However, on some scale both memories felt true. There was more though. Lots more exactly like that of him and Sai growing up together — but it just wasn’t possible. And there was one more thing added to the equation; something that shouldn’t be happening now that they each had their own bodies. The spot in his brain where Sai had nestled was also active and he could hear . . . things. He could feel things as a double sensation. 

‘ _Double_ . . . Sai . . . can you hear me?’ he wondered. 

Less than a second later Sai was looking into Hikaru’s eyes. ‘Loud and clear,’ he answered. 

’Why? How? There are all these pictures and memories and stuff in my head all of a sudden.’ 

‘Not just you,’ Sai remarked. 

’Why?’ Hikaru repeated. 

’Because God gave me a life,’ he answered, smiling as he slurped up another dangling noodle. 

‘There are lies in my head,’ Hikaru thought with some concern. 

’No,’ Sai disagreed. ‘When I was being popped back and I was in the place between Heaven and here I heard one of God’s angels whisper that God is the way, the truth, and the life. And if God is truth then nothing He says can be a lie, right?’ 

‘I suppose . . .’ Hikaru reluctantly allowed. 

‘Hikaru,’ Sai thought softy, fondly, ‘God says I exist; He found a way using His truth to give me a life. I’m not complaining.’ 

‘I’m not either it’s just that . . .’ 

‘I know,’ Sai’s mental voice whispered soothingly. 

‘It’s weird,’ Hikaru finished in just as quiet a mental tone. When Sai thought soft thoughts it was as though Sai’s arms were wrapped around him with his graceful fingers filing through Hikaru’s hair. It made him feel better. ‘I guess we’re supposed to tell God’s other version of things, huh?’ 

‘I don’t think it would hurt anything.’ 

Their entire conversation had happened in milliseconds. The time it took to pass thoughts rather than speak was apparent; Waya was just recovering from his upset and finding his voice again by the time they’d finished. “Shindou,” Waya started irritably but Hikaru cut him off again. 

“The hospital,” he grumped. 

“What?” Mitsuko and Waya queried simultaneously. Isumi said nothing but the look he gifted the two with was more than eloquent. 

“I was in the hospital,” Sai clarified. In fact God had given him an extremely pathetic life that was Hikaru-centric. Sai supposed that was more than fair. He liked thinking that he and Hikaru had been brought up together instead of in two completely different eras. His old life had ended badly; it was far more pleasant to think of this one in comparison, even if he had been battling diseases most of it. 

“All this time?” Waya demanded. 

Sai nodded. “All my life,” he murmured and before any more objections could be made he expounded. “My mother left me at the hospital shortly after I was born. I was very sickly and I’d developed cancer later on.” 

“Oh my . . .” Mrs. Shindou gasped in surprise. 

“I was so sick I couldn’t be moved to foster care and nobody wants an ill child. So I was a ward of the state and as such I was taken care of by the free clinic part of the hospital.” 

“How did you meet Hikaru then?” Isumi asked. If the guy had been in the hospital his entire life there was no way he could have met Hikaru under normal circumstances. But then the whole day had been rather bizarre. First Hikaru had been behaving oddly earlier, acting as though he was waiting for someone that wouldn’t show. Then this gorgeous creature sitting before him popped up from seemingly nowhere and could play Go more than well if the rumors were true. Isumi covertly watched Sai and Hikaru. The former was avidly eating his meal while Hikaru seemed more than content to just watch him do so as he picked at his own food. A whimsical smile was etched onto Hikaru’s face and Isumi had to wonder what they were to each other. He hazarded best friends at least, a student to teacher complex was a definite possibility, but there was just something about the way they looked into one another’s eyes. It was as though they saw more than anyone else ever could in each other. Isumi wondered if the hormones that had activated upon seeing Sai would mind too terribly if he sat this pursuit out. It didn’t look like he would win even if Sai and Hikaru turned out _not_ to be . . . lovers. 

“We met when we were three, I think; sat together in the children’s clinic because Hikaru had the flu.” Sai was saying when Isumi came back to himself. 

Mrs. Shindou sucked in a quick breath as she was struck by an epiphany. “You’re the little boy who held his hand.” Sai nodded. “Every time we were in that part of town Hikaru just had to come see you.” 

“Right,” Hikaru confirmed. 

“You’re still friends after all this time,” Mitsuko said with no small amount of awe in her voice. These were facts, hardcore facts. Sai had been the little bald-headed boy who had boldly latched on to Hikaru’s hand to comfort him. They had looked at each other and offered shy smiles. Sai’s hair had grown back beautifully since then. No wonder it was so long; he was finally able to grow it without it falling out from the chemotherapy and other treatments. She wouldn’t cut it either were it her. “You’re the one who got him into Go,” she stated, having just remembered what Isumi had said about Sai being the reputed best. 

“Yes, that’s right too,” Sai replied. He pushed his empty plate away and not a complete second later Hikaru was standing and carrying it over to the sink with his own mostly full plate. 

‘Mom wasn’t too thrilled about it, remember?’ tickled Sai’s mind from Hikaru’s. Sai figured he could at least explain that part before turning in for the night. _Geez, Gabriel said I would feel worn out but this bone deep weariness is a bit much_. 

“He actually hadn’t liked the game,” Sai said as Hikaru sat back down beside him. “But he learned to play it for my sake.” 

Mitsuko’s mouth pursed together in a fashion that could be considered either positive or negative as she processed what Sai had just said. It made perfect sense _and_ it was all facts. 

“You taught Shindou how to play?” Isumi repeated slowly. His mind was replaying an earlier conversation. His curiosity was piqued. He just had to know how much he had helped Shindou; had to know why he’d needed help. Where was Sai then? 

“At first he would just place the stones for me when I . . . when I couldn’t. But soon he began to ask what exactly he was doing, so yes, I guess I did,” Sai answered humbly. 

Hikaru almost snorted at Sai’s modesty. Wasn’t he remembering those humiliating defeats Hikaru had suffered because Sai hadn’t toned down his expertise? 

“Are you a Shuusaku fanatic too?” Waya questioned. 

“Sai’s the original Shuusaku fanatic,” Hikaru corrected. 

“I’ve got one more question,” Isumi continued confidently. “And you can just tell me to shut up if it’s too personal.” He’d been aiming his question at Sai but both he and Hikaru looked attentively at him. “If you’re the one who taught Shindou how to play, how do you feel about him forfeiting all those matches last year?” 

Waya stared at Isumi in gape mouthed fascination, shocked that he had actually been so bold as to ask the question they had been contemplating before. He supposed it was because Sai was being so accommodating in answering their inquiries that had prompted him, but still, Isumi was a more subtle breed of person. 

Sai closed his eyes briefly as the knowledge came to him from somewhere deep in his mind. He hadn’t known about Hikaru skipping matches after God had called him back. He _had_ been right to worry about Hikaru the entire time in line. He now knew the truth — Hikaru had believed not playing would bring him back, and when that hadn’t happened Hikaru could only find solace in playing to remember him. 

There was no need to go into that; his altered memories gave him something completely different to say. “Last year about this time I had slipped into a coma that my doctors weren’t sure I’d wake up from.” Sai ignored the gasps from the three who hadn’t known. “The doctors and nurses all said that Hikaru came to visit me everyday, all day. He’d sworn that if I couldn’t play then he wouldn’t play either. So I can’t say that I’m upset because I know why he did it and I’m glad . . .” Sai turned from Isumi to gaze directly at Hikaru. There was a genuine wide smile on his face. “I’m glad that I mean so much to him.” 

Isumi’s head dropped back down to his mostly empty plate. _What’s it like to have that kind of commitment?_ he thought, casting a considering glance Waya’s way from the corner of his eye; they had yet to begin planning their trip to China. 

Hikaru hadn’t wanted to play because while he would have been going to his matches his friend, the one that had taught him how to play and appreciate the game was lying in a hospital bed and could die at any moment. This same friend was probably the one playing cheerleader for Hikaru while he was a struggling insei; he was probably the one that had encouraged him to take the exam. And Hikaru would have given it up, his career, his love for the game, _everything_ , to have his friend back, awake and healthy. 

_Why does it have it make so much sense?_

One thing was for sure though, even if Sai and Hikaru weren’t dating now, it wouldn’t be too much longer before they were.


	4. Chit-Chat Before Bedtime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Hikaru no Go is a product of Hotta and Obata.  
> Warnings: Divine Intervention, _*Non Explicit Rape reference this Chapter*_ , Religious views.

An hour after saying goodnight to Isumi and Waya and casually mentioning to his mother that it was late and a _long_ and _dangerous_ route back to the hospital for their recovering guest, Hikaru helped a freshly bathed Sai sit down on his bed and instructed him to lift his arms so he could place a t-shirt over his head. 

“This is tedious,” Sai grumped when Hikaru had to grab each appendage and press them through the armholes himself. 

“You’re weak because God gave you a sickly body. Not your fault. Besides . . .” Hikaru’s gray-green eyes flowed over Sai’s body before it disappeared under the shirt he guided down. “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.” Patiently Hikaru lifted each of Sai’s legs to slide on a pair of his boxer shorts. 

“It’s still embarrassing,” Sai mumbled. His cheeks were rosy from the bath and his discomfiture. His friend had leaned him forward so that Sai's forehead rested on Hikaru’s shoulder while Hikaru pulled the shorts up. For a second Hikaru’s hands had rested on his backside, it had felt like a caress, but Sai was sure that he was imagining things. There wasn’t a detectable dirty thought in Hikaru’s mind despite his comments. 

“It’s not,” Hikaru insisted with a smile. “Do you want to go to sleep now or stay up?” 

“Stay up for a little while. I’m tired but not ready to sleep yet. We haven’t seen each other in a long time.” 

“Yeah, about that,” Hikaru began as he rearranged Sai’s docile body beneath the summer bed sheets. He stacked his pillows behind Sai’s back and helped him recline. “Where were you all this time? I searched and searched all over. It’s been a year and a week, Sai, since I last saw you.” Hikaru settled himself onto his bed beside Sai having decided to make a pallet on the floor later. Sai inclined his head towards Hikaru’s shoulder and let it rest there. He smiled when Hikaru didn’t brush off the contact. 

“Well, if you’re referring to why I wasn’t here when you came in earlier I’d have to say that was Gabriel’s fault for putting me so far away from your house in this condition. If you’re talking about in general — I was in line.” 

“In line,” Hikaru repeated stupidly and then scoffed. “You have to wait in line to see _God_?” 

“A lot of people die everyday,” Sai replied offhandedly, conveniently forgetting that the wait had nearly driven him insane with its inanity. 

“Did you see Him?” Hikaru exclaimed excitedly. 

“Who? God?” 

“Uh huh!” 

“No.” Hikaru’s face fell and Sai hurriedly gushed to bring that animated look back to him. “But I did see Saint Peter the Disco King and Samurai Gabriel the Archangel.” He concentrated on the images he’d seen and managed to project them to Hikaru through their bond. 

Hikaru’s eyes gleamed. “Wow,” he breathed. 

“Yeah,” Sai agreed. “And the Pearly Gates . . .” Sai focused on the memory. 

“Yes?” Hikaru closed his eyes to get a better visual. 

“So cool,” Sai replied and sent the image. 

“It’s very beautiful. But why in the hell does it look like the God of the Western culture’s place?” 

“When you’re basking in the glow of Heaven it’s like everything you’ve ever wondered about has been made plain and you get it all of a sudden.” Sai’s eyes were unfocused as he delivered that cryptic message. 

“Get what?” 

“Everything,” Sai offered vaguely. 

“Get _what_?” Hikaru reiterated anxiously. “You haven’t answered my question.” 

“The thing every god or gods or spirits of just about every civilization have in common is that they’re all powerful and all knowing, or at least have some mystical powers and are a bit wiser so that they seem all knowing, right? Sai remarked instead. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Hikaru reluctantly agreed wondering what that statement had to do with anything. 

“And they may be male or female or have many different characteristics and names but when it comes down to it there is only one god masquerading as all the others so people of different backgrounds can understand Him to the best of their ability.” 

“But why did Heaven look like that? And I don’t want some deep philosophical answer.” 

“Alright,” Sai conceded. “The simple answer is that I wanted it to.” 

Hikaru winced at the onslaught of confusion that hit his brain. Why would a one thousand year old ghost from _Japan_ want Heaven to look Western? “Okay give me the deep philosophical answer.” 

Sai stifled his laughter. “Think of Heaven as a computer desktop; if you don’t like it, you can change it right?” 

“Yes,” Hikaru replied. Since he was twelve he’d learned a thing or two about computers. 

“Well, if I had wanted Heaven to look different, it would have looked different. But of all the scenarios I could have picked out I liked the simple golden road and the dazzling gates in the background and the sparkling clouds and that magnificent soft glow. It was soothing to look at and I was distraught to say the least.” 

“Distraught?” Hikaru wondered. 

“I was worried about you,” admitted Sai. 

Fighting a smile, Hikaru managed to say, “Worry or not, I can’t believe you left a multi-desktop _Heaven_ to come back here.” 

Sai shrugged as he forced his exhausted body to roll onto its side so that he could cuddle up to Hikaru. He buried his head in the crook of Hikaru’s neck and shoulder and laid a slender hand on his chest. “Hikaru,” he began, “we’re friends right?” 

“The best kind,” Hikaru concurred. He covered Sai’s hand with one of his own and lifted it to his lips in a thoughtlessly quick adoring kiss. 

Sai, pleased with the action but loathed to call attention to it, instead nibbled his bottom lip in a silent debate that Hikaru couldn’t decipher in his mind. “In one thousand years you were my only friend,” he said after a minute. 

“What about Torajirou?” 

Sai shook his head slowly as he planned out the best way to say what he wanted to. He’d had a year and a week to take things like this into account without any distractions. It was more than safe to say that he knew his own mind. “No. Torajirou let me play Go because he realized my talent and knew that there was a possibility that he could become famous. It was more like a business arrangement that suited the both of us. He can’t compare to you.” 

Hikaru had had no idea how much he had wanted to hear those words until Sai had said them. He’d always been jealous of Torajirou and how much Sai had doted on his memories of them together. He couldn’t keep the corners of his lips from tilting upwards and staying that way in a goofy grin. 

“When I was in line I had a lot of time to think. And Heaven just isn’t _Heaven_ without you, Hikaru.” The hand on Hikaru’s chest slid up his neck to cup his smooth cheek and caress it for a moment before falling back down weakly. Sai cursed his lack of muscle. God had a nasty sense of humor. He’d given him a body but no strength. He’d given fifteen years of life to him and a disgusting amount of hormones that he’d forgotten came with the territory, and no way to act on them. Maybe that was best for now. 

Some minutes passed in which the boys merely sat together in silence, enjoying each other’s company. However, soon Hikaru was asking in a somber tone, “Were you really my age when you . . . died?” He couldn’t bring himself to say committed suicide. In the few minutes of silence he’d been rummaging through the memories in his mind, realizing that some of them were from God, some of them were his, and some of them belonged to Sai. Then he had seen the small ocean, Setonaikai, in which Sai had thrown himself. It was a vivid image that stood out from the rest no matter how hard he concentrated on something else. 

“Yes,” Sai answered his voice just as subdued. 

“You seemed older when we first met,” Hikaru accused. But he supposed he could have figured it out if he had really wanted to. Hikaru had never thought to imagine Sai without make-up and that stupid hat or those bulging clothes. Underneath it all was a smooth face that looked to have just lost its preadolescent plumpness. Sai’s body was proportional but thin and still filling out much like Hikaru's was. Sai must have had a sudden growth spurt before he had died, because even after Hikaru's own rapid development Sai was still half a head taller than him. Then Hikaru acknowledged that Sai had behaved just as immaturely as he had most of the time. No matter the argument, no matter how big or small, neither of them would admit when they were wrong. ‘I’m sorry’ hadn’t existed in their vocabulary. And when put like that, impossible as it seemed, a teenager had beaten Touya Meijin. 

“To a twelve year old I’m huge,” Sai said with a small smile. The smile faded quickly however. “In my day, children grew up faster. I guess that’s because back then people died sooner. But since I was a member of the court and taught the emperor himself, I had to be very well behaved — conduct myself in a certain way. There were certain rules back then.” He sighed tiredly, as though he dreaded the task before him. “I suppose I should tell you the parts of the story I left out now before you pluck it from my brain.” 

“There was more?” Hikaru asked not needing Sai to elaborate on the subject. 

“Yes. I didn’t want to tell you because you were so naïve, so young,” Sai answered. He collected his thoughts again and realized there was no easy way to say it. “Remember the other Go player I told you about — the one that cheated?” 

Hikaru nodded. 

“The reason he told the emperor he only needed one Go instructor was because I had been young, and . . . pretty and . . . I’d refused his advances.” 

“You mean that old fart had been hitting on you?” Hikaru bristled. He had the whole picture in his mind thanks to the link. He could see the other Go player; the man had looked like a snake and behaved like a weasel. 

“Yes,” Sai answered. “There was another stipulation to that game besides the winner got to stay . . .” 

“What was it?” Hikaru prompted with trepidation when it became apparent that Sai couldn’t find the words. 

Sai’s fingers plucked at Hikaru’s t-shirt. “That if I lost then I would visit his rooms before leaving,” he answered in an empty whisper. “I was confident that I would win and I’d wanted to be rid of him so badly that I agreed . . .” Sai exhaled loudly. “It wasn’t so much that I had been charged with cheating after the game; I probably could have found work in any of the surrounding villages, or even some other country. I even tried sneaking out of the palace before the time he had ordered me to meet him, but he’d had people loyal to him watching me. They dragged me to him and held me down while he —. It was just . . . after he touched me . . . I saw the ocean and I just couldn’t get clean enough.” Sometime during his monologue Hikaru had pulled him closer and was running Go-stoned fingernails through Sai’s long hair in a comforting manner. “That’s why I drowned myself,” Sai finished quietly. 

He had no clue what to say to that. Sai had recalled the entire the story without the slightest inflection in his voice. It was as though it had happened to someone else. But Hikaru supposed that was natural. It had been a thousand years since the incident for Sai. Time had blunted the pain. However, Hikaru had the brutal images in his head now, Sai’s memories — though blurred — weren’t pretty. His body had begun to ache dully in all the places Sai had been ravaged. He would have gladly killed that bastard for Sai if he weren’t already dead. 

Hikaru had to concede that all in all he’d led a pretty sheltered life. He could see why Sai had left these details out when he’d told the story the first time. However, now that a few years had passed it was easy to see that Sai’s story had been too simple the first time he'd recanted it. Yes, Sai loved Go — it had been his very livelihood. And in knowing that, it was easy to conclude that under most circumstances Sai wouldn’t have killed himself if he'd still had the chance to play. What had happened to him, being raped like that . . . He now fully understood why Sai had once told Hikaru that he knew Go better than love. 

The only words he could think to offer still didn’t seem enough. “I’m sorry that happened to you,” Hikaru genuinely whispered. “That’s probably why God is so lenient with you,” he remarked after a second of thought, pleased that it didn’t sound overly stupid and callous as was his wont. 

“Probably,” Sai conceded. He wanted to change the subject. He’d just spilled his guts; he didn’t want to wallow in them now. It had taken him twenty years of wandering before he could finally put what had happened to him far from his mind, and he’d been able to mourn the loss of being able to play Go more fully. “So how’s it going with Touya?” he asked since the subject was on courtships — whether they were pleasant or not being irrelevant. 

“Hopeless,” Hikaru answered simply, glad for the slight change in topics. “Touya may be a Go genius but his people skills are seriously lacking. I told him I could probably like him if he wasn't such a jerk, but he blew me off.” 

“Maybe he doesn’t like boys,” Sai suggested though it sounded ludicrous to him. Everyone — if only for a little while, if only for a second — found members of their same sex attractive; or at least they had once upon a time. Today’s society tended to find that aspect of human affinity to be taboo. Times sure had changed. 

“Probably,” Hikaru easily agreed. There was nothing in his mind, speech, or body language that hinted that he was willing to fight that charge. He seemed to have accepted it as the gospel truth and was rallying for moving on. 

“You said you’d lost to him the last I heard from you,” Sai had to say though, just to be sure. 

Hikaru nodded. “Yes. I still lose to Touya but I’ve got bigger bowls of ramen than him to eat now.” 

A picture of an auburn-haired Korean flashed through Sai’s mind. “Ko Yeong-Ha?” he asked not sure if the name that had been supplied was correct. He had focused on that ramen piece of the sentence Hikaru had just said. It was nice to know things hadn’t changed that much; that Hikaru still had that fixation. 

“He insulted you,” Hikaru scowled. “I will crush him.” He seemed to consider something. “Will you help me?” 

“Of course, but slow down. I’m getting too many images of this guy at once.” 

When Hikaru had significantly calmed down and Sai was able to filter through Hikaru’s memories in chronological order, he offered an unsophisticated snort. The other boy hadn’t realized it yet, but that gleam in Yeong-Ha’s eyes whenever he looked at Hikaru wasn’t complete pompousness on his part. Ko liked being the center of attention, or more specifically he liked being the center of one person’s attention — Hikaru’s. Sai didn’t think he had read the Korean boy’s face wrong either. He’d seen that look before, plenty of times in all three of his existences. Ko liked baiting Hikaru and it was just his luck that he’d discovered the one thing that really boiled Hikaru’s blood. In his own twisted way, Ko Yeong-ha had been expressing his desire for Hikaru &mash he’d been outrageously flirting. But, of course, his best friend had missed it utterly. Not that he wasn’t glad; Sai had no intention of idly sitting by while Ko Yeong-Ha seduced Hikaru away with his unfailing conceit, good looks and ridicule. Sai had just gotten his body back, and though it was weak and crippled at the moment, he _would_ use it to fight to keep Hikaru with him. Sai lifted his hand to his bedmate’s cheek again. 

“Where do we go from here, Hikaru?” he sighed. 

The professional Go player knew that Sai wasn’t talking about the game, or Touya Akira, or Ko Yeong-Ha, or even their conversation topic; but meant their lives now that they were together again. “Well, tomorrow we’ll look for an apartment and swing by the hospital to get your things. I’m supposed to meet with Touya at his father’s Go salon. That should be interesting, huh?” 

The former ghost nodded. 

“Sai, I know you want to play Go, do you want to be an insei or an outsider when you take the pro exam?” 

Sai blinked. He hadn’t thought that far ahead but Hikaru had asked a logical question. Fujiwara Sai had a life now to do whatever he pleased with it and Hikaru would be there also. 

“It doesn’t matter what you choose,” Hikaru continued. And then added in a voice so soft Sai almost missed it. “I’ll take care of you.” 

The one arm around Hikaru’s waist squeezed him in a hug. “I’ll take the insei test,” Sai decided. 

“Okay,” Hikaru said with a smile. 

It was like fuseki, Hikaru thought, only instead of the opening moves being for the game, they were for Sai’s new opportunity. Today Sai had gotten his life back. Tomorrow he would take steps to join the professional Go world. Next March he would graduate and in April compete for a spot on Team Japan for the May . . . 

“Dear God . . .” Hikaru breathed as he realized something. 

“What?” Sai asked. 

“You’re my age . . . you’ll be able to compete in the Hokuto Cup Tournament next year.” 

Sai shrugged as he yawned. It had been a long day; coming back to life had been exhausting. He knew nothing of the Hokuto Cup Tournament aside from what he’d gleaned from Hikaru’s thoughts &mash which primarily consisted of: Ko Yeong-Ha would there and Hikaru wanted to win against him. Sai would figure it out when he woke. He tilted his head back and pressed his lips to Hikaru’s cheek in a soft kiss before resettling against him. Sai was asleep before his eyes finished drifting shut. 

Hikaru blinked in shock but then couldn’t refrain from smiling. He patted Sai’s hair again and closed his own eyes. He knew he should make a pallet on the floor but he didn’t want to leave Sai’s side if he didn’t have to ever again.


	5. Admissions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Hikaru no Go is a product of Hotta and Obata.  
> Warnings: Divine Intervention

Touya Akira’s hand hovered over the phone’s handle suspended in animation as indecision warred within the young man. This was what his life had come down to; he was but a call away from sealing his fate . . . And he just couldn’t do it. Yashiro, the one who had seen through his façade, would laugh if he could see him like this now. 

Shindou . . . the name that was like sugar on his tongue and poison to his mind lingered in his thoughts. He was such a fool. After all the time he’d invested in chasing after the spunky, punk prodigy, Shindou still didn’t consider him as more than just . . . How to put it? 

Shindou hadn’t shown up at his father’s Go salon all week. When he’d asked Shindou why, Thursday after their matches, Shindou had offered an evasive ‘I was busy’ without further explanation. When Touya had asked the shodan if he would like to come over to his apartment for a study session with the rest of the former Touya Meijin study group over the weekend, Shindou had claimed he was meeting Waya and Isumi. And while Touya didn’t doubt Shindou's truthfulness it had _hurt_ that he hadn’t at least been invited along. After all this time he’d thought . . . well admittedly he’d felt that they were friends and he’d been shot down and proven wrong on that account. But still, glutton for punishment and desperate for understanding from the one person he considered his eternal rival, Touya had practically begged for Shindou to meet him Monday at the Go salon. To his profound relief Shindou had agreed. 

However, Touya was still irritated. It wasn’t enough. Over the months they’d spent together Touya had begun to believe that Shindou had been hinting that maybe they _should_ have a relationship based less on rivalry, more on friendship, and a bit on the romantic side. Or maybe Touya had merely wanted to believe this was so because those ideas went along with what he desired from Shindou. He was no expert on these things under any circumstances, but he was sure that Shindou was cute. Very cute. He was also fun and animated. Shindou said what was on his mind and damned the consequences. He was everything Touya lacked, but wanted in another person. Shindou always inspired the best in him to be brought out. Shindou oozed so much life that, like a contagious disease, it attacked Touya’s immunity to expressing himself. Things were not allowed to be boring when Shindou was around. He was the one person that Akira knew to be able to invoke anger in him. And Touya reveled in it. He loved feeling that much emotion; he loved being able to produce it. He loved the idea of Shindou feeling that much about him. 

Touya let his hand fall away from the telephone. These kinds of admissions should be said face to face he decided. Regardless of the consequences, Touya Akira would tell Shindou Hikaru how he felt about him tomorrow when they met. He would admit that for a long time he’d misunderstood the shape of the stones Hikaru had placed around him, but he now comprehended that he’d been in _atari_ for a long time. And he was more than willing to be captured. 

* * *

Ko Yeong-Ha stared at the volume in his hands in incomprehension as Su-Yeong stood before him with a gloating expression on his face. They were in his small apartment’s living room, Su-Yeong having come over a few minutes earlier. “W-What’s,” the auburn-haired Korean began. 

“That’s for baiting Shindou,” Su-Yeong beamed, effectively interrupting him. 

“You get me a book of Shuusaku’s kifu for doing exactly what to Shindou?” Ko managed to say as he studied the book cover. It was one of the best presents he had ever received. Of course he’d seen most of Shuusaku’s kifu in the institute’s library, but this was a complete collection with commentary from eight and nine dans from around the world. This was a generous gift and he was curious as to what twisted logic in Su-Yeong’s mind had prompted the giving of such a present. 

“For being a complete jerk,” the younger boy remarked cheekily, his tone was the only thing cheerful about him though. Su-Yeong’s eyes were absolutely forbidding and his mouth was set in a straight line. 

“Allow me a moment to understand this correctly.” Yeong-Ha’s mouth twitched as he fought a grin. “Are you congratulating me on beating the guy you couldn’t, or punishing me for getting the job done for you?” 

“Neither, you arrogant prick,” Su-Yeong scoffed irritably, taking advantage of their long friendship to speak his mind. “I’m giving you this because you allowed Shindou to believe that you thought you were greater than _Shuusaku_ of all people. And he’s Shindou’s hero. You were also a complete ass the entire time we were in Japan. So I’m giving you this so that every time you look at it you will think of Shindou and know that next year you won’t be able to leave the battleground with your head held quite so high—cause Shindou will _crush_ you.” Ko was actually cringing but Su- Yeong wasn’t finished yet. He turned his back on Yeong-Ha and proceeded to the door, haughtily tossing over his shoulder as he went out. “Remember, the difference between you two is only half a moku.” The door closed with an ominous thud and Yeong-Ha fell to his couch. 

Su-Yeong was generally more understanding of his ways . . . and if not completely understanding, he could tolerate Ko better than anyone else. Su-Yeong probably knew him better than anyone else too. The shorter boy was more than likely irritated with him because Su-Yeong knew what was wrong with him and why he was behaving the way he was. Ko Yeong-Ha only teased the people he liked. And Shindou rose to the bait without fail every single time. The Korean didn’t think that Shindou even realized it. 

He stared at the book in his hands and couldn’t help but shudder because he did remember Shindou when he saw it. He avidly recalled those grayish-green eyes looking at him with such determination. The fire blazing through those eyes had scalded him, and if the game hadn’t presided over his actions Ko could have fully seen himself being consumed by them. And he would have welcomed it. 

Ko Yeong-Ha blinked in momentary confusion, but then smirked as he decided not to fight it. So he had a . . . a _thing_ for Shindou Hikaru. So what? He would either get over it, or not. But if he didn’t get over it before the next tournament . . . 

_Well then . . . It’ll be all the more interesting won’t it?_

* * *

When Sai woke up the following morning his first impulse was to acknowledge that he had indeed woken up. He hadn’t been awake thinking about random things all night long, watching Hikaru sleep, or gazing at the goban with longing and remembered sadness. He’d actually been unconscious, he’d been tired, he’d slept, and now felt rejuvenated — if still weak and heavy. Flesh sure did weigh a lot to one who had been dead for such a long time. All in all however, Sai was happy. 

He inhaled deeply, after finding that he could move if he concentrated, he shifted on the bed and looked around at the room that hadn’t changed since he’d disappeared. He looked down at Hikaru, who never did make that pallet on the floor and he noted that things, thoughts in his head, were very clear in a murky kind of way. Hikaru was . . . Hikaru was . . . The corner of Sai’s mouth quirked up. Hikaru just was, and needed no other definitions than that. And being what he was, Sai couldn’t find it in himself to bring Hikaru any more pain than he already had. He’d died, he’d gone to Heaven, he’d come back, but Hikaru had cried because of it. Also, they were both trying very hard not to hurt each other’s feelings in the least, and as a result they hadn’t been completely honest with each other the night before. But Sai was certain, they both knew, or perhaps, Hikaru didn’t know that he knew, which was alright for now. 

What did they know? 

What didn’t they acknowledge? 

Hikaru cared for Touya, just as Sai had cared for Torajirou a little more than they’d both admitted to. One just couldn’t spend the amount of time and effort into thinking of someone in some way and then suddenly not think of them in that way. One could say so. One could tell oneself so. However, one would know better. No one could ever replace that part that one had given to somebody else. 

So they’d exaggerated a little. Sai did indeed value Hikaru’s friendship above everything in this lifetime, but only in this lifetime — which made what he’d said about Torajirou true. At this moment, he couldn’t compare to Hikaru. But also, in Sai saying so, Hikaru could now visit the various Shuusaku sites with him and not feel any resentment or jealousy as he had before, and genuinely wish the soul of Torajirou well in his afterlife. Hikaru may have said that there was someone much bigger than Touya to do battle with, but rivalries were funny things. The moment Hikaru beat Ko Yeong-Ha he would no longer consider him a rival. But once Hikaru beat Touya Akira, he would want to do it again — and that was the difference. 

* * *

Hikaru woke up to Sai precariously leaning over him, with a serious look upon his face as he stared. “What?” he questioned. 

Instantly the former ghost’s face transformed with his smile. “Are we going to play Go today?” he cheerfully inquired. 

Hikaru grinned. “Are you even strong enough to lift the stones?” 

“Probably not,” Sai admitted ruefully. “But you could . . .” he began hopefully. 

“I don’t think so.” 

Sai wilted. “But Hikaru . . .” 

“No. That’s tiring,” Hikaru stated. “And we have a full schedule today.” He slipped out of bed and was halfway dressed before he spoke again. “I’m glad you’re sounding much more like yourself though.” 

“More like me?” Sai wondered. 

“Yes. Yesterday you were really serious and you didn’t mention Go until after I’d brought it up.” 

“Oh,” Sai breathed. “I was a little disoriented. I mean, I was dead until yesterday afternoon. And after seeing the foyer of Heaven . . . I want to say it’s like — everything is a little dimmer here on Earth but at the same time very clear.” 

Hikaru paused in putting on a shirt as his brows knitted together in thought. “I’m sorry, one more time.” 

Sai exhaled loudly. “You’re as dense as always . . .” 

The shirt hit Sai in the face. “Take it back!” 

It took some effort but Sai removed the shirt and glared at Hikaru. “Fine, all I meant to say was that Go is important to me, but there are other things that are important to me too. I’ve already lived and died for this game. I love this game and I always will and I’ll do anything to play it, but at the same time I want to live my life without you or anyone thinking I’m behaving out of character because I don’t seem overly concerned with Go.” Sai smiled then. “You taught me that, Hikaru.” 

The other boy gaped. “I did?” 

“Uh huh. 'All you are is the Go you play, but Go isn’t all you are'. Now then, take your shirt and help me get dressed. What’s first?” 

“I could have sworn that I went over this yesterday . . .” 

“Disoriented . . . remember?” 

“Oh yeah.” Hikaru grabbed his shirt and slipped it on in a fluid movement. “We’re going to look in the newspaper for apartments over breakfast and then we’ll go see them on our way to the hospital. And then later today I’m playing Touya.” 

“Good. I’ll finally be able to see how much better you’ve gotten,” Sai replied with a smile. 

* * *

“Hey-hey, Cat! My face is getting kinda close to this pavement here!” Saint Peter reprimanded as his afro nearly brushed the front porch of the Shindou residence. He placed the rolled piece of newsprint wrapped in plastic down carefully and murmured a prayer. 

Above him, perched on the roof and holding the gatekeeper by his overly tall platforms, Archangel Gabriel shrugged. “You’re the one who insisted on coming along.” 

“Y’know, if you keep this up you’re gonna be demoted.” Peter muttered. He was well aware of how close and how hard the concrete was. Gabriel had a tendency to be vindictive at times. 

“What was that?” the angel asked in a deceptively smooth voice. 

“Nothing. We’re done here. Pull me up so we can get going.” 

* * *

The woman of the Shindou house had just laid down the last of the three plates full of breakfast food when her son and his guest descended the stairs. Her feelings on the whole matter of the guest were complicated. On the one hand she knew that Hikaru and Fujiwara Sai had been friends for a long time, and it would be a shame if they ever fell out because friendships that last as long as theirs were rare. However, on the other hand, Fujiwara — with maybe a little help from that Touya boy — had very neatly taken her son away from her. What rankled that much more, was that they had beaten her importance to Hikaru with a _game_. Perhaps some of that was her fault. She hadn’t been extremely supportive of Hikaru’s passion for the game and she had backed away because she didn’t understand it. 

If Hikaru didn’t need to eat, Mitsuko was sure that she would never see her son. Even that was suspect now though. Often enough Hikaru came home and went to his room, having already stopped at some ramen stand. It wasn’t as though he needed her for financial support either. He made a disturbing amount just for playing the game Mitsuko was rapidly learning to despise. 

She happened to glance upward and see Hikaru carefully helping his friend into a chair. Fujiwara’s smile was gentle as he gifted Hikaru with it. A soft “Thank-you,” reached her ears. She somehow refrained from bristling. This was the boy who had seduced her son away with black and white stones and a board; it wouldn’t be right if he succeeded in the exact same thing again — only this time with beautiful smiles. But that wasn’t a fact, and she shouldn’t have thought it. It was wrong of her to assume such a thing. 

However, the facts as she knew it was that Hikaru had never been interested in girls. Fujisaki Akari was more than proof of that. And an even more interesting twist to the whole situation was that Akari could play Go, not on the same level as Hikaru of course, but she understood the concept behind the game. Hikaru _still_ wasn’t interested. Shindou Mitsuko had been up for a good portion of the night contemplating this. She’d analyzed the facts, she’d made sure she hadn’t included any biased inferences; she’d taken the reactions and testimony of others into account. Mitsuko had paced her room, laid in her bed, and taken two showers as she thought. It had crossed her mind numerous times that she shouldn’t be so put out about this situation; she shouldn’t be up at all hours of the night worrying about something that may not even happen. Perhaps Hikaru would just find girls attractive later . . . though that was also dubious when his best friend was more beautiful than most women she knew, and they had more in common. Not many women would be able to stay with a man whose first passion was Go. 

“Hey, Mom?” Hikaru began, interrupting her thoughts. 

“Yes.” 

“Has the newspaper been delivered yet?” her only child asked cheerfully. 

A chill raced down her spine. “Newspaper?” 

“Uh huh, now that Sai’s out of the hospital for good, we’re gonna find an apartment.” 

“Oh,” Shindou Mitsuko breathed hollowly. “I’ll just go look.” She suddenly felt as though someone had thoughtlessly aimed a blowtorch at her and pulled the trigger; she could taste ashes in her mouth. 

The paper was just outside the front door and Mitsuko stooped to pick it up, her fingers shaking with trepidation. She knew this was it. Hikaru and Sai would definitely find a place today and he would leave physically just as he had mentally. She schooled her features; she had to be able to smile when she sent her only child off.


	6. Real Estate to Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Hikaru no Go is a product of Hotta and Obata.  
> Warnings: Divine Intervention

Touya Akiko was a very beautiful woman. Kouyo didn’t often say so, but when his intense eyes looked at her they were always full of love and appreciation of what they saw and the things she did. Those eyes always said something different than his curt, and oftentimes, rude words. Touya Kouyo was a reticent person; disliked loud things and was usually uncomfortable in any situation that didn’t involve a goban and Go ke of black and white stones. It was a slightly irritating list of traits he had passed on to their only child, but she loved them both all the same. 

Friends of the family often joked that if Akira had been female, sociable, and without a Go inclined thought in his body then he would have been the exact replica of Akiko. Instead, Akira was just the opposite with Akiko’s features. Mrs. Touya always laughed at the comparison because it was disturbingly true. She didn’t understand her husband and son’s passion for a game but then she didn’t need to understand it to know that it made them happy. As long as her family was smiling, then Akiko felt that she could smile also. 

However, recently Touya Kouyo hadn’t been smiling. He would sit in front of his goban and merely stare, as if waiting for someone to make a move. Only that person never did. It had been like that for a while now. He had joined the Beijing team and the schedule of matches had kept him occupied for a time, but when they returned home he would descend again into his depressed state. Akiko was very worried about him and couldn’t seem to find a way to help her struggling husband. 

Akira was another one. It wasn’t right for a boy of his age to be as socially inept as he was. Akira displayed no interest in the opposite sex — or even the same for that matter — and Akiko knew that even the littlest romantic interest in another human being would relieve her mind greatly. She didn’t want her son to be alone all his life as he was more often than not alone now. He didn’t do things that didn’t pertain to Go; he was something of an introvert. And while Akiko may not understand the principle behind Go, she didn’t need to to know that it was important to her son, but it shouldn’t be to the exclusion of _all_ else. Akira’s eyes were scary at times and she feared that their intensity would frighten any potential friends away. 

All but that Shindou Hikaru boy, that is. 

She’d met Shindou before. Briefly. He'd seemed like a sweet boy, willing as he was to come visit her husband after his collapse. He was Akira’s complete opposite. He hadn’t been dressed the same as her son at all. His bangs had been bleached, his clothes baggy, he was the kind that wasn’t comfortable in serious situations, and adults seemed to fluster him a bit. 

Shindou Hikaru was _adorable_. 

Not that she would ever consider trading Akira in, but Shindou’s mother was so lucky. Akiko often wondered how a boy like Shindou had gotten mixed up in Go when he seemed more suited to a video arcade or holding a skateboard. She’d once asked Kouyo how a boy of his nature had become a pro and he’d laughed and said that Shindou became a completely different person when presented with stones and a board. She’d responded by saying she someday hoped that Akira would be able to see the merit in that. Kouyo had exploded with laughter then, answering that Akira considered Shindou his rival. He would likely view Shindou’s easy going nature as another competition and be as contrary as possible. 

_That was different_ , Touya Akiko thought. Akira acknowledging someone his own age, wanting to do things — Go related or not — with another person was a vast improvement over before. It was a shame Shindou hadn’t met Akira when they were younger. 

“Good morning, Mother,” Akira calmly greeted her. 

Akiko somehow managed to not fall out of her skin. “Good morning. Breakfast is warming on the stove. Sit down, I’ll fix you a plate,” she responded pleasantly instead. Her family was too quiet by far. It was like living with two ghosts. Growing up, Akira had been quiet too, no fits or tantrums from him. It was a though an old man had been reincarnated in her son. Akiko couldn’t hold back her sigh. “Did you sleep well?” 

“Alright, I guess,” Akira answered. 

The boy’s mother gave him an appraising look. Sweater vest, short sleeved button up shirt, ironed slacks, and hair impeccably combed. Akira was disgusting at times . . . Disgustingly neat. Just once she would like to hear him yell, just once she’d like to tell him to tuck in his shirt, pull up his pants, or buy some that fit. She wanted him to complain, just once. Mrs. Shindou was indeed a very lucky woman. 

Akiko had arranged a special breakfast between just the two of them for a reason. She wanted to learn more about her introverted son. He wasn’t a very open person; didn’t express himself even to his family, so she had to do things like this. The little she did know about Akira had been through careful observation over the years and pure mother’s instinct. Those few facts about her son’s life that she knew were like lit candles in a drafty room and invaluable to her. So, it may have been a little late, but she was going to teach her son to talk. 

“Where’s father?” Akira asked as he took his seat at the table. 

“Sleeping,” Akiko answered with a self satisfied smile that her son could not see. Convincing Kouyo to butt out of her special breakfast hadn’t been quite as difficult as one would imagine. 

“This late?” Akira wondered. 

Akiko couldn’t help but giggle. Perhaps Akira could be naïve at times also. It was cute. “He was very tired,” she answered smoothly. She placed a plate full of Akira’s favorite breakfast foods down in front of him and then took a seat on the opposite side. Discussions should be carried on when eye contact was easiest. 

“Ah,” Akira commented and then picked up his chop sticks. 

“Have you decided to attend high school yet, Akira?” she began pleasantly. Akira had taken the high school exam and passed, but he had never said whether he would attend or spend the rest of his life perfecting his Go. 

The conversation had to be kept neutral, but personal, and general all at once. This of course limited subjects to only two events; school and work. Anything else she wanted to discuss with Akira required a bit more than neutral-but-semi-personal feelings and Akiko didn’t know if her son could handle that yet. She wanted to take this slowly, drag it out and spend time with her only child . . . 

She wanted to have him acknowledge her, his own mother, as someone who was just as great as his father even if she couldn’t play Go. 

“Not yet,” her boy answered. He seemed to hesitate and Akiko pounced. 

“Not yet? Are you delaying for a reason?” 

“Not really . . . I don’t think I am.” 

“Why would you say that?” 

“Because I don’t think that this reason pertains to my decision,” the boy answered. And then, seeming to realize how much he had revealed, added, “Should this reason exist, that is.” 

It was too late though. As innocently as she could Akiko queried. “Is it because of work?” Who was she kidding? This was Akira; _of course_ it was about work. “I realize how stressful title matches and the tournaments to get them are.” But also true, this _was_ Akira, her only baby; she had to be supportive no matter what. 

“ . . . It’s not really work,” the boy admitted after a while. 

Akiko blinked, silently rejoicing that Akira had disclosed that much about his life. He looked like he needed to talk to someone who wouldn’t turn the entire affair into a Go analogy of some sort. “Then what is it, Akira?” she asked gently, her beautiful face expressionless and honest all at once. If you couldn’t trust your own mother, then who could you trust after all? 

There was only more silence on Akira’s part. Akiko sighed. She wouldn’t prod any further; it must be too personal for her son to keep his peace of mind and still share. Akiko wanted to cry. They had just started and she had already failed. However, right when Akiko resolved herself to endure another quiet and neutral breakfast, she found herself saying the magic words. “Alright. We don’t have to talk about that. How is your rival? Shindou Hikaru, wasn’t it?” 

And those narrow, intense eyes of Touya Akira, widened in alarm. “I thought you said we didn’t have to talk about that,” he blurted out. 

Akiko blinked. “We don’t,” she answered. “I didn’t say anything about it.” 

“But you said Shindou,” the boy accused. 

Akiko smiled. “Ah. Is he the problem then?” 

And the poor child dropped his chopsticks as realized that he had just given himself away. 

* * *

Aboard the train on the way to the Touya Go Salon the former ghost could only look at his friend and shake his head. Sai had known Hikaru was a little naïve and had hoped that with a little time and experience he would grow out of it. What had just happened not more than twenty minutes ago was proof that any such imaginings Sai had entertained had been only that: an overactive imagination. 

To get the complex that the two had scouted in the newspaper earlier, two short subway rides had been required. As they had ambled through a developing neighborhood Sai couldn’t help but wonder why that particular ad had jumped out at them. Maybe it had been that soft glow that had caught their attention. Admittedly it had been the very first thing Sai had seen upon turning to that section of the newspaper. He had thought it was a trick of the light because Hikaru and his mother hadn’t seemed to notice it. It was as they walked to the location that Hikaru happened to mutter that he was sure these apartments hadn’t been there before. It had been an obvious clue that something was seriously off to Sai. Hikaru had claimed to have just come to this neighborhood before the Hokuto Cup Tournament for a tutoring session. There had been no mention of any apartments sprouting up. He'd said that the lot they were headed to had contained a busted tire, a shrub, and a puddle. Something had obviously been suspect about the whole situation. However, Hikaru had shrugged off the observation and happily plowed ahead. 

They'd been met at the apartment complex by two men. One had had golden hair and deep twinkling black eyes outlined in kohl. He'd worn a black buttoned shirt emblazoned with an angel fighting a dragon and black jeans. His partner had sported white platforms, blue bell-bottoms and the tackiest combination of colors Sai had ever seen in a paisley shirt. His natural hair had stood at attention like a black nimbus cloud encircling his head in place of a halo. A gold tooth had winked at them when he'd smiled. Sai had been instantly reminded of Saint Peter and Archangel Gabriel. But the former ghost had shaken his head clear of the thought. There had been no way those two would be there. 

Of course there was always room for error. 

“Yo cats, welcome to the Sainted Arch Apartment Complex, where the room is abundant and the prices heavenly!” 

“Y-You two?” Sai had exclaimed. Gabriel had placed a finger to his lips to indicate Sai should keep it down. As if Hikaru wouldn’t know the two on sight after Sai had transmitted pictures of them only yesterday. An archangel and a saint were not beings one could forget easily. He had looked over at his bleached companion then and noted that he was still staring at Saint Peter in something akin to awe at his attire, but there wasn’t a trace in his mind to prove to Sai that the boy recognized the two spirits before them. 

There was no way. But stranger things did happen and Sai had supposed that a little later, Hikaru would identify the two supposed businessmen. So Sai hadn’t said anything, abiding by Gabriel’s wishes for the time being. 

“Come this way honored guests,” Gabriel had murmured. “I have the perfect place for you two.” 

They had moved from the lobby to the elevator and gone up to the fifth floor. The perfect place turned out to be a spacious fully furnished two bathroom, three-bedroom apartment that spanned the entire top floor of the complex. There was a pre-stocked small kitchen, with various foods that Sai couldn’t help but notice was all of their favorites. There was also a room to entertain. Yes, there was a thirty-six inch television but something you don’t find in the average home was that instead of a coffee table in front of the sofa and two recliners on the side of it, there was also a Goban. _Shuusaku’s_ Goban. The exact board Sai had spent one hundred and forty years in before Hikaru had found it. The blood stains were gone though, and the stones were new. 

Hikaru had merely beamed, “Oh look! A Go board!” There had been only genuine happiness at seeing it because it was a Go board, not for its significance. How had Hikaru missed that one? It had been so bluntly before him and yet there was no reaction. 

The apartment — if one could even call it that — had an odd blend of old and new. Things Sai distinctly recognized from his childhood in the palace hung from the walls next to posters of modern day rock stars or priceless sculptures sat beside anime action figures. But the real split between the two time periods blending so perfectly together was two of the three rooms, obviously pre-set for their occupants. In what had to be his room was traditional tatami floors, oil paintings of flowers and Shuusaku’s — his — old kifu hung from the wall. _The Tale of Genji_ written in classic Japanese rested on a small dresser next to a vase with a single adornment. Sai’s favorite cousin, alias the Lady Murasaki Shikibu though Sai had called her another name, had still been working on it when Sai had committed suicide. He had been glad to see it. The closet was full of his old Heian clothes; however, they were slightly modified to a more modern cut using the same cloth. Each outfit had its own decorative fan and hat of various styles. Against a wall was a bed roll, but next to it there was a lute and a flute, also his. Sai had picked up the antiquated lute and cradled it in his arms. With tears in his eyes he had turned to his friend and whispered, “Hikaru, I want this apartment.” 

“I want it too,” Hikaru had admitted as he examined his own room, his eyes eating up the details and loving every square inch of it. “But I probably can’t afford it,” he had muttered casting an apologetic smile Sai’s way. It was the first sensible thing the boy had said since entering the apartment. 

“I’m sure you can,” Gabriel had countered. “Because you’re our first guest and the first to answer the ad in the paper —” Sai had wanted to snort at that. They were probably the _only_ guest and the _only_ ones who had seen the ad in the paper. “We are letting you have this apartment with zero down payment and only 1 yen per year. Utilities are a flat 1,000 yen a month that will never increase. And we do accept cash in advance for if you’re absolutely certain you’ll want to stay here.” 

It had to be illegal to take advantage of someone’s stupidity like that. What was more; naïveté of that magnitude should be a crime. The Saints, while meaning well, were taking it a little too far for Sai’s liking. 

But then the second intelligent sentence to leave Hikaru’s mouth was said and Sai had felt a little better. “What’s the catch,” Hikaru had suspiciously asked them. It was finally sounding a little too good to be true to him. 

“There is only one,” the archangel incognito admitted. “You can _never_ tell anyone what you got this place for. If you do our deal is null and void. If anyone asks, you tell them that the price varies from person to person so you don’t know.” 

Sai had recognized the gleam in Hikaru’s eyes immediately then and wasn’t surprised in the least when he fished out a 10,000 yen bill and handed it over to the archangel. It would cover the rent for the next 100 years and eight months of utilities. 

“Groovy,” Saint Peter incognito beamed. He had Hikaru and Sai sign some paperwork. And Sai had marveled that the entire time they had been viewing he apartment, that the two had not said their names; introductions had never been made. And yet Hikaru . . . “We’ll fax you all the necessary paperwork which you _must_ keep. If anything happens we’ll let you know. If anything breaks down, give us a call, the number is listed in your speed dial. Here are the keys.” And that had been all there was to it. 

As Gabriel and Peter were leaving Sai had piped up. “Can I talk to you for a second?” he had asked tentatively. 

“Sure,” the archangel answered without hesitation. Hikaru was still engrossed with the apartment that was now theirs and had merely waved him off when he said he was going out. The angel helped Sai walk into the hall and closed the door behind them. 

“Why are you doing this?” the former ghost had queried the moment the click was heard. 

“Because Gabriel screwed up yesterday,” Peter answered with a disdainful scoff. 

“Do recall that I am a warrior angel and you a lowly gatekeeper,” Gabriel retorted irritably. 

“Humble much?” the guardian of the Pearly Gates mumbled. But he remained silent as he sullenly played with the golden keys placed within his care. Sai had briefly wondered about the condition of the line to get into Heaven. If the Gatekeeper wasn’t there did that mean Heaven was closed? 

The Archangel had looked up momentarily and then shifted his eyes to focus on the floor to the right of him. He kneaded his bottom lip with his teeth, his brow furrowed. “He does have a point though,” he told Sai a second later; his tone contrite and his eyes honest. “Yesterday I’d forgotten that God had to knit your body back together after being in its watery grave for a thousand years. I didn’t take into account how weak you would be and as a result I caused Hikaru undue pain. God told me to think of way to make it better and I figured there could be nothing better than a practically free place to live for the rest of your lives.” 

“What about the real people who own this place?” Sai wondered. 

“Don’t worry about that, cat,” Peter replied. “All taken care of.” 

As funny as it sounded the whole thing seemed legit and there was nothing too much more Sai could think of to say. After seeing his room he didn’t even want to object too strongly. “Thank you very much.” He had bowed deeply and just about fell over. Sai had gracefully accepted Gabriel and Peter’s steadying hands and couldn’t help but laugh with them at his weakness. 

“Take care, cat, we’ll be looking in on you two from time to time.” And with that the two heavenly beings had winked out of existence. 

* * *

Fujisaki Akari, purse in place of school bag in hand, and fresh coat of lip gloss applied, ambled down the street on her way home from an early morning Go class. Summer had made it possible for such an occurrence. In between casually brushing up on subjects for school or hanging out with her friends, there was always the off chance that she might become a Go genius and follow Hikaru on his journey. 

The thought of Hikaru brought a nostalgic smile to her face. Hikaru had grown up and apart from her those last three years. But, Hikaru had grown well. She had always thought Hikaru cute in his own way, and now, without the baby fat, plus the height, maturity, and steady income and he was . . . Hikaru became a person to consider for after high school, when one was ready to settle down. At the moment though, Akari admitted, she did — in a way — like Mitani too. Mitani was like Hikaru before Go, and what was more was that she was pretty sure he liked her too. Akari couldn’t say the same for Hikaru. 

Hikaru rarely had time for her anymore, and even more rarely did he _make_ time unless he was nervous about a game. She supposed he should be glad that she could play against a pro of Hikaru’s skill level for free when many would die for that honor, but Akari couldn’t help but think of Hikaru as her childhood friend who was always a little loud, thoughtless and naïve. Akari also admitted that she had followed him into Go, not understanding that people like Hikaru tended to excel at the most unlikeliest of occupations. 

She would be passing by Hikaru’s house on her way, she knew, and Weekly Go hadn’t announced him having a game. It was still early and if Hikaru wasn’t asleep he should only be practicing or something like that. She was going to drop in. A frown crossed her face when she thought of what Mitani would say about that, but Akari shrugged it off. Mitani was a boy she liked second only to Hikaru, but both of them were her friends. 

Akari turned into the Shindou walkway and knocked on the door. It was opened a few seconds later by a flustered Shindou Hikari who did her best to smile encouragingly at the girl at her door. 

“Hello, anything I can help you with Akari?” 

“Is Hikaru here?” 

“No, he and his friend left a little while ago.” and here Ms. Shindou’s face fell again. 

Something prompted Akari to ask, “His friend?” 

“Yes, Fujiwara Sai,” Ms. Shindou answered. 

Akari nodded. This was the friend Hikaru had mentioned he was going to learn Go for those few years ago. But she had never met this friend, and Hikaru had only mentioned him infrequently. “They went to play Go together?” Akari questioned. 

Mrs. Shindou only shrugged, “I’m sure they will at some point.” 

Fujisaki nodded and bowed. “Thank you. Please tell Hikaru I stopped by.” 

However, as she turned to go Mrs. Shindou stopped her. “Akari . . .” she seemed desperate. “Y-you know how to play Go, right?” 

* * *

Akiko recognized the adrenaline pumping through Akira’s body, the blood rushing to his face gave away his embarrassment. Would he run? Would he stop and think about it logically? Would he stay and talk about it? There was only one way to find out. “Don’t worry Akira. We weren’t talking about it. That is what you wanted correct?” 

“I . . .” and it seemed to Akiko that for the first time since breakfast, Akira finally realized that his mother was making an honest effort to sit and talk with him one on one. He seemed to understand that he often neglected the woman who had brought him into the world in favor of a goban. “That is to say, I think I _would_ like to talk about it.” 

Akiko felt as though the light of heaven had finally shone down on her. “So your rival is the problem?” she prompted. 

Akira nodded. There was more silence and the woman realized she would have to do all the work if she wanted to find out anything. But she felt she already knew what Akira’s malfunction was. The boy was good at his job, the stones part of it that is. The social part is what stumped him. And with how jumpy he was acting over the mention of a person it could only be one thing. Her little boy had a crush. _Thank God!_

“So you find Shindou attractive?” she stated. She took a sip from her tea to hide her smile as Akira’s face drained of all color. 

“You . . .” the boy began, utterly aghast at what his mother was implying, even more shocked that she had figured out in seconds what had probably taken him months, or even _years_. “You know?” 

So couldn’t stop at least a little of her sarcasm from leaking over. “Really, Akira, what else could it be?” 

“I . . . but . . .” Poor kid looked terrified and horribly out of his element. 

“It is alright,” Akiko murmured soothingly. “I happen to like Shindou too. As a matter of fact, I think he’s wonderful. And it’s even better that you like him. Now, does Shindou feel that way about boys?” 

“I don’t know. But he’s always inviting me out places with his friends, and he’s always touching me when we’re together . . .” 

“Touching?” Akiko immediately jumped on the word. _The hell . . ._

“Yes. When he says hello, he’ll always touch my shoulder or something. And when we’re sitting in the same booth at his favorite ramen shop he sits really close. And when we’re discussing a game he always finds a reason to touch my hands,” Akira explained. “And I think . . .” his voice dropped lower, as though he was less confident about this next revelation. “I think he actually became an insei because of me. Like he really wasn’t going to pursue Go if I hadn’t of blown him off as someone not worthy of my time . . . or something like that.” 

_Poor Shindou_ , Akiko thought upon hearing that. The child had been in the same position she had been in with Akira. Wanting recognition but not knowing exactly how to go about it. Shindou had chosen to follow him into the Go profession. She could only be a listening ear. “So you think maybe, Shindou likes you?” 

“Maybe. I was going to tell him today that I . . .” and Akira’s voice failed him and his face rapidly regained color as he flushed again. 

“Ah,” Akiko commented. 

“I’m just hoping I can get it out before he makes me angry or he gets irritated and leaves.” 

_Angry . . . Akira . . ._ “What do you mean?” 

“Well Shindou and I have been playing at the salon for some time now, and it always ends with the two of us screaming at each other. He just makes me so angry and . . .” 

And Akiko could only listen and smile as her son went off on a tangent of all the things that aggravated him about Shindou Hikaru and all the things that made him laugh. She had never been happier. 

* * *

The Touya Go Salon wasn’t overly crowded the Monday afternoon when Touya Akira entered. Ishikawa greeted him with her usual bright smile and slightly flirtatious attitude which Akira completely misinterpreted as pure kindness. “Amazing, Akira-kun. I think this is the first time you’ve ever been late to one of your meetings with Shindou.” 

Impossible, the 3-dan always arrived at least fifteen minutes ahead of the arranged time. Today he was half an hour early. “Late?” Touya queried and Ishikawa pointed to the two figures seated at Touya and Shindou’s usual table bowed over a game of sorts. Shindou was holding both go ke however. He would place down a black stone and then pause. His partner’s lips would move and then a white stone would be placed down directly after it. Was Shindou playing for the both of them? It seemed awkward to Akira, but Shindou didn’t appear to be having any troubles with the way it was arranged. But to the matter at hand, Akira looked at the clock on the wall. It was saying twenty-eight minutes to the number. What was Shindou Hikaru doing here? And _who_ was that sitting in _his_ chair? 

Even from the distance Touya could see that the girl was stunningly beautiful with her mass of long black hair, while in a ponytail, still spilling out of her . . . _his_ seat to touch the floor. Her clothes, Touya had to say, he had never seen the like before; a mix of an old and new style, that artistically draped over her form. All in all, he had to say that she looked like someone Shindou would hang out with, more so than that Fujisaki girl in any case. He wasn’t getting any answers this way, Touya realized, and walked toward the table. 

He had first opened his mouth with every intention of announcing his presence and getting introductions out of the way so that he and Shindou could begin playing immediately and he could then casually let his feelings slip out somewhere after fuseki but before yose. The fact that there was someone else present didn’t change his plans at all. When Touya Akira set his mind to something there was no going back; he would definitely keep his word. Of course, all the intentions in the world didn’t stop him from taking a glimpse down at the board. The arrangement of the stones told the story of each of the players’ brilliance. Black was good, but of he’d known Shindou was excellent already. White was better. He couldn’t decipher how much better because he had only caught a glimpse before Shindou’s hands ruined the shape. 

“Sheesh, you never go easy on me,” the boy complained. 

“I thought you hated it when I did that,” the other person — Touya wasn’t quite as certain of the gender anymore after hearing it’s voice — responded calmly. 

“ _I do_ ,” Shindou answered, a growl in his voice. 

“Then why are you complaining?” 

It sounded like the beginnings of one of their fights. Touya had thought Shindou only did that with him. He had to put a stop to it. He cleared his throat. “Afternoon Shindou. You’re early.” 

The other boy looked up at him with a scowl. “Are you whining after _you_ begged me to come here today?” 

“No. Whining is your department,” Touya countered smoothly causing the other person to laugh, which quickly turned into a cough when Shindou shot it a look. “And who is this?” 

“A friend,” Shindou answered somewhat evasively. “He’s going to be watching, is that okay?” 

“Sure.” And then the most peculiar thing happened. Shindou abandoned his seat to drag another one beside it and then helped the other — now known to be — boy rise, and walked him to the seat he’d gotten. What was wrong with him? First Shindou had been placing the stones for the both of them and Shindou was now doting on him. Touya wanted to ask but was afraid that would be considered rude. So instead he sat in his chair, accepted the white go stone container from Shindou — in which he took comfort in their fingers touching — and then waited for him to put down his first move. 

The fight began sooner than Touya would have liked, and what made it worse was that Touya himself was the one who had started it. He had been thinking about the game between Shindou and his friend when his opponent had placed down his stone. In the previous game Touya hadn’t been able to see any visible mistakes on Shindou’s part. The game had had an intensity that he and Shindou had yet to discover in their games against each other. The game Touya had caught a glimpse of earlier hadn’t been one between rivals, but something else. And when Shindou had placed his stone Touya had forgotten about his unconventional way of playing, he’d been expecting the same genius he had previously glanced at. “That was a stupid move,” left his mouth before he could remember. 

“Stupid,” Shindou scoffed. “I’m trying to compensate for this _stupid_ move you did in this corner. You ruined _both_ of our shapes.” 

“I did not.” 

“Yes, you did.” 

“Did not.” 

“Did so.” 

“You know with that attitude you’ll never beat me in an official match!” 

“I’m not worried about beating you right now!” 

That gave him pause. “W-What?” 

“I’m not worried about beating you right now,” Shindou repeated more calmly. “Now let’s play.” 

“No. Explain what you just said.” 

Shindou huffed in irritation. “All I’m saying is that I want to prepare more for next year’s tournament. Now let’s play.” 

“No. You’re saying that you aren’t chasing me anymore . . . that you’re . . .” Touya knew what next year’s tournament meant without it being spelled out. Shindou had lost to Ko Yeong-Ha; someone he hadn’t wanted to lose against under any circumstances. Touya didn’t have that kind of rivalry with Shindou. 

“It’s only temporarily . . .” his opponent began. 

“You can’t do that. It’s like . . . it’s like you’re _cheating_ on me, Shindou.” 

“Cheating? Because I’m putting someone else’s challenge to me before my challenge to you?” 

When said that way it did justify Shindou’s outlook on the whole situation, Touya acknowledged. However, he had been the one to protest he wouldn’t take it back now. “Yes.” 

Hikaru looked at Touya incredulously before throwing up his hands and declaring. “I give up! If you’re going to be this stupid then I’ve got better things to do today. Like move into our apartment.” He helped his friend stand while Touya digested what he’d just heard. 

“A-Apartment?” His steely eyes shot back and forth between Shindou and his guest. How were they getting an apartment together? How long had they known each other? Touya was well aware that Shindou didn’t share all aspects . . . well really _any_ aspects of his life with him but Touya was familiar with Shindou’s circle of friends. And this person — this _invalid_ — wasn’t in it. “You’re moving in together?” 

Shindou nodded enthusiastically though the anger still burned in his eyes. “Uh-huh!” He turned to go, his usual manner of stalking out of the building hampered but still obvious. 

And suddenly Akira was overcome with a sense of desperation. He hadn’t done what he’d said he would. He hadn’t even brought it up. And now Shindou was moving in with some strange — beautiful — guy that he had never seen before. He had no idea if Shindou even thought the guy was pretty, or if any boy was pretty. Things were not going well. But even if he couldn’t ask half of what he wanted to know, even if his original goal would not be accomplished this day, he had to know one thing. 

Now. 

“W-Waitaminute! Who is this guy?” 

* * *

“Would you like snacks for this study session, or will you geniuses feed off each other’s brilliance instead?” Akiko’s smile and slightly odd sense of humor was always a highlight of his day, Touya Kouyo acknowledged as his beautiful wife set a cup of tea before him. She then returned to the dishes she’d been washing before his arrival into the kitchen. 

Akiko knew nothing of Go but when it came to running the household, finances, public appearances, and taking care of her family his opinion was that there was no one who excelled at it more than she. It had been brought to his attention earlier that not everyone in their small family likely understood her true value and for that Kouyo felt very guilty. At times Akira seemed Akiko’s son in name only, his independence and lack of social skills alienated him from almost everyone, but especially those who didn’t play. Many times Kouyo had considered having another child, but there was no guarantee that another wouldn’t follow in his footsteps and then there would be two who ignored their own mother. It was wrong for such a wonderful woman to be so cheated. 

It was these thoughts that had him answering, “’Feed off each other’ . . . Really Akiko, you make us sound like parasites.” She laughed merrily, a sound that after so many years of marriage he hadn’t tired of. “Snacks would be appreciated, thank you.” She seemed to glow at these words. But then, his keen eyes had already noted that she seemed happier today than she had in a long while. He could only assume her special breakfast went well; he would not ask. 

“Akira seems to be running late,” he commented and then took a sip of his tea. 

“He has a busy day planned,” Akiko answered. 

The occasional clink of dishes was a soothing sound, Kouyo absently thought. “He said nothing to me,” he began. 

“But _I_ know,” Akiko’s reply was positively gleeful; it was as though she was gloating. 

The doorbell sounded and Kouyo knew it could only be Ogata and Ashiwara. They had long since dispensed with the formality of waiting outside for the door to open. Ringing the doorbell was simply a courtesy at this point. The door creaking slightly as it opened merely confirmed his guess. One of these days he was going to have to talk Akira into dragging his rival to a session. Kouyo didn’t doubt Shindou would protest to the invitation, after all this time the boy might still harbor lingering guilt for his having retired after that match with Sai. 

His entire body ached when he thought of Sai. Would that they could play another game. Just one more and Kouyo swore he would be satisfied. But that was likely a lie. One more game wouldn’t be enough. It would be only a sample of Sai’s intelligence, and Kouyo wanted the full course. In that he supposed Akiko was correct in referring to them as ‘feeding off each other’. Perhaps Shindou would decline the offer because of Sai, him knowing that Kouyo would likely bring it up; try to schedule a rematch. 

“Evening,” Ogata replied as he and Ashiwara entered the kitchen. “Akira not here?” He seemed surprised. 

As Kouyo shook his head negatively the door opened once again. It took only seconds for Akira to enter the room, there was something in his eyes that Kouyo could not name, or had ever seen before. “Akira . . .?” he began, but his son bypassed him as his mother turned from the dishes. He briskly crossed the kitchen and — much to the surprise of all present — laid his forehead on his mother’s right shoulder. Something suspiciously similar to a sob escaped him and Akiko’s sudsy hands were instantly around him in a tight hug, and then she drew him from the room. 

Her voice was soft and soothing but still discernable as they walked down the hall to a private room. “Come now, Akira, don’t . . .” Her voice failed. “What happened, Sweetie?” 

“What happened?” his son’s voice broke. “Sai happened.” 

“Sai . . . what is a Sai, Sweetie?” 

There was only a muffled answer; they had moved too far away. But it was enough. Touya Kouyo took a sip from his tea, and when he looked up again his eyes accidentally met the gleaming eyes of Ogata. Kouyo didn’t need a mirror to know that the same calculating look was in his own eyes. 

  
**~End Fuseki**


End file.
